The rest of the week slips by, and Thursday night arrives way before I'm ready for it.
After practicing with the boys for hours on end from sunrise to sunset, plus the long walk to the cabin and back every day, I'm exhausted.
The last thing I feel like is having to sit through a long dinner while my mom tries to convince the boys that she's "hip" and "knows how to use the f*******:" – while my dad cross-examines them like a detective in an 80s cop show.
Plus, knowing them, they'll have prepared a ridiculous feast of epic proportions for the boys. The last thing I want is to give off the impression that we're trying too hard.
To make matters worse, I've barely seen my friends this week, and I know I should ask them if they want to come over tonight. They could show up after dinner, and
